


Dear Agony

by insanechayne



Series: Magical Song Based One-Shots [3]
Category: Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:02:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insanechayne/pseuds/insanechayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shot based on the song Dear Agony by Breaking Benjamin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Agony

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to this song today, and I just knew I had to write something beautiful and poetic and tragic to go along with the lyrics. And I've always wondered what Merle would have thought about in his final moments (unless the Governor shot him directly in the heart, a chest wound like that would take anywhere from two minutes to twenty to bleed out enough to kill the man), so that's what I decided to write.  
> Enjoy.

_I have nothing left to give_

_I have found the perfect end_

Merle lay in the grass and the dirt, the wind softly tussling his clothes and hair in its light breeze, and somehow he felt at peace. The sun shone down on him, making him close his eyes against its glare, though he reveled in its warmth, and he knew that God was smiling down upon him from somewhere up in that wide blue sky.

He had taken out eight of the Governor’s men, weakened his army, and hopefully done something to protect his brother, his group. He took a bullet in the process, but that didn’t matter now. What mattered was that he had tried to do what was right. In a way, it was perfect, and just his style.

 _Go out with a bang; make them remember your name._ Merle thought, smirking to himself. They’d remember him alright, and hopefully now it would be for the small amount of good he’d done for them.

Merle knew things were better this way, better that he gave them all he could, gave them a fighting chance, rather than just stood beside them during the fight that they all might have lost otherwise. He gave his life for them; he gave his life for Daryl.

_You were made to make it hurt_

_Disappear into the dirt_

_Carry me to heaven's arms_

_Light the way and let me go_

_Take the time to take my breath_

_I will end where I began_

As he felt his life slipping away, he had visions of the past, of memories long since forgotten. He was a young boy again, playing with his baby brother at the creek, catching tadpoles and collecting small rocks. Daryl always did have a fondness for those rocks, the way they shined through the water like jewels waiting to be uncovered. Daryl was surprisingly good at catching the baby frogs, too, much better than Merle was; Merle didn’t mind that, though.

He was twelve again, with a six year-old Daryl sitting beside him and trying to help him get his nose to stop bleeding. It was the first time their father had hit one of his sons instead of their ma, and they were both terrified. Merle thought his nose might be broken, but they couldn’t exactly get to the hospital to check it out; luckily it had just swelled up for about a week before returning to normal. Daryl held the tissues to his older brother’s nostrils as Merle tipped his head back, trying to keep his tears from falling; he had to hide his fright, for Daryl’s sake, because as long as he was being brave Daryl would be brave, too.

He was fifteen, standing outside the juvenile detention center, staring at his father’s rusty pick-up truck. Daryl walked up to him, a hardness in his eyes that had never been there before, and Merle knew that he had felt their father’s wrath while Merle was locked away and unable to protect him. Daryl didn’t hug Merle, didn’t smile or tease him like he might have a year ago. Daryl just looked at him, fear and hurt and betrayal burning in the younger boy’s gaze and said, “You should probably hurry. Dad wants to pick up a bottle of whiskey on the way home.” And that had been the only welcome Merle received.

He was a week from eighteen, his bags packed and ready to go join the army. After all the trouble he’d gotten into, all the rage he’d built up over the years, he was going to go into the Marines and be the best damn soldier the United States had ever seen, or he would die trying. Daryl was angry, his pre-pubescent hormones raging under the surface, and he refused to speak to Merle unless it was absolutely necessary. But that night, Merle sat on the roof, chain-smoking and taking nips from his father’s alcohol stash, and Daryl had climbed up there with him, had sat beside him, almost touching shoulders. They didn’t talk for a long time, just passed the bottle back and forth while Daryl smoked his first cigarette; Merle held back his laugh and lewd remark at Daryl’s hacking on the smoke. And then Daryl had said the one thing Merle had never forgotten in all of his years: “I’m proud of you, Merle.” And Merle nearly cried that night, up on the shabby roof of their run-down shack of a house, but instead of sobbing he just draped an arm across his younger brothers shoulders and said, “Thanks, kid,” with the hint of a smile playing at his lips.

Flash forward to the more recent past. He was standing by the forest line, forcing Daryl to choose between blood relatives and soul-bonded family, and Daryl had chosen him after all. Daryl was always loyal, always knew where the line between right and wrong was, and he stuck to it no matter what. Merle couldn’t say that much for himself, but he didn’t care; he was proud of his brother for at least having the sense to stay a moral human being. And if he’d had to do it all over again, running in blind to try and kill the Governor, he’d do it in a heartbeat, because he knew Daryl would be proud of him once again.

_And I will find the enemy within_

_Cause I can feel it crawl beneath my skin_

And now Merle cried, his mind replaying all the memories he’d buried for so long. He missed those times with his brother, missed the carefree way they would wrestle over stupid things, the way they would look for trouble on the hottest of summer days, and how they’d dare each other to cross the creek when it froze in the winter.

His inner demons had filled his mind for so many years, never giving him a moments rest, and they had made him do terrible things, things that made Daryl think less of him as a human being.

 _I’m a damn mystery to me,_ he’d told Rick, but that wasn’t true, not entirely. He was just a simple man with simple pleasures, a man who loved his younger brother more than his own life, but a man who was selfish and pig-headed all the same. It was his actions that were the mystery now, that had been the mystery for so many years. He truly didn’t know why he did the things he did, at least not always, and that was what he wished he could have changed about himself.

_Dear Agony_

_Just let go of me_

_Suffer slowly_

_Is this the way it's gotta be?_

_Dear Agony_

Merle was so close to death now, right on the precipice of eternity. He had always said he wouldn’t beg, but he felt like begging now. There was so much pain, even though he was almost gone. The bullet in his chest burned like hellfire, even as his blood flowed around it, never ebbing.

The Governor had taken care not to shoot Merle directly in the heart; that would have been too easy and painless. The sadistic bastard had shot him in roughly the center of the chest at close range, blowing just enough of a hole into him to kill him slowly, make him suffer.

And Merle wanted to curse, to scream, to cry, because fuck that gunshot hurt like Hell, but he stayed silent through the pain. Besides, knowing he wouldn’t see Daryl again hurt worse than anything else he was dealing with.

_Suddenly_

_The lights go out_

_Let forever_

_Drag me down_

_I will fight for one last breath_

_I will fight until the end_

Merle gasped now, feeling his chest tighten as his final breaths blew out from between his lips. But he wasn’t done yet, he still had his amends to make, and so he would fight until his last breath caught in his throat.

 _Forgive me, Lord. I never b’lieved before, but I swear I see the light ‘a Heaven in these blind, dead eyes, and I don’t wanna miss out on Paradise. Wash me ‘a my sins, Lord. Don’t lemme suffer anymore. I know I done some bad shit in my day, but Ya made me; Ya know I ain’t all bad on the inside._ Merle wasn’t begging, but he was coming damn close.

He let his mind go blank then, figuring the Lord would know the rest of the words that were written on his heard and get the message.

_Leave me alone_

_God let me go_

_I'm blue and cold_

_Black sky will burn_

_Love pull me down_

_Hate lift me up_

_Just turn around_

_There's nothing left_

Merle could feel himself falling off that cliff, his breath catching in his throat and making a choking sound, and his last thought was, “Love ya, Daryl. Take care ‘a yerself fer me.”

_Somewhere far beyond this world_

_I feel nothing anymore_

**Author's Note:**

> Update: Because I have currently started work on my first novel and already have quite a few people supporting me, someone suggested I set up a newsletter about the book.   
> It'd be mostly updates about the writing process, quotes from the book, and in the future updates about publication and when it'll be available for purchase.  
> The newsletter will be a mass email sent out roughly once a week. So if you're interested in being a part of this you can send me an email at chayne43571@gmail.com, where the newsletter will be sent from, or you can message me here or at my tumblr (insanechayne.tumblr.com) with the email address you'd like me to send the letter to.   
> Thank you for your support!


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